NGD (a couple of weeks ago)...

[DanDoulogos]

My wife was out of province a couple of weeks back - visiting my son and his family. I've been happily married for 33 years now, so my wife is quite familiar with the fact that I suffer from an acquisition syndrome that is common amongst many members of this very forum. To be sure, my wife seems to be the one who suffers from my syndrome, I rather find it somewhat rejuvenating.

Surely it was mere coincidence that in the week before her departure I was prodded by a strange, consuming whim to see peruse a few online outlets where used instruments (of the guitar variety) were known to be in open commerce. It was during this harmless pastime that I happened to find myself attracted to a particular ad concerning a semi-hollow 2010 Blues Boy Tribute in showroom condition. It had some nice grain showing under a warm sunburst, and I felt it calling to me. It needed a forever home.

I fought the impulse to buy it - in large part because I am such a cheapskate - but I did visit it again every day just to look at it's quiet dignified beauty. On the day before my wife left for her visit, I happened to notice that the seller of this particular guitar was a certain pawn shop in my city. That meant I could avoid the delivery charge.... and having the guitar show up unexpectedly (from my wife's perspective) when I wasn't around to mitigate a shock that could lead to a ..misunderstanding.. I'd prefer to avoid.

This to me felt like I was a young man, hopelessly infatuated with some beautiful goddess who was obviously of such fine quality that it was folly to think that my infatuation could ever progress into anything deeper than a fruitless yearning. Only to find the said beauty knocking upon my door hoping (with yearning urgency) to secure my affections.

To be fair, I didn't buy the guitar as soon as my wife left. I waited a week. Then I stepped out my door, drove to the pawnshop that listed the guitar online, and walked in ready to purchase the guitar should it be in reality all that it was in the ad.

I walked in confidently looking around. I found an alcove where several guitars (and other random musical instruments) were set up (rather poorly) on display - but each and every instrument represented seemed to me: cheap trash.

My heart sank.

Did someone buy the guitar? It would have stood out like a brilliant light in the darkest night - had it been displayed among the cheap/trash instruments that made up the display. Never the less, I combed the area to see if perhaps it was placed apart from the swill on some pedestal of honor where it might not only shed it's beauty on all the trash around it - but perhaps be put somewhere prominent so that refined customers could easily find it standing out from the rest of what seemed to me to be a glorified garage sale.

After spending more time than was proper scouring the shop for said Blues boy, I was about to leave. Defeated and somewhat deflated, I stopped at the till and asked after it (just in case it was squirreled away somewhere ("in the back"). The man at the till almost brushed me off, when I asked after it, saying that he hadn't seen any such guitar come into the shop. I turned to leave - a sour feeling in my gut, and I suppose an accompanying sour look on my face. Seeing this, the man at the till asked, more out of politeness than actual interest, why I believed the guitar would be there.

I explained that I had seen in online and saw that this pawnshop was named as the seller, and that is why I expected to find the guitar there.

A look came into the eyes of that unshaven, unkept, sloven shell of man that was standing behind the dirty counter upon which sat an even dirtier cash register. It was the look of someone suddenly woken from slumber. "Where did you see the ad?" he asked me. I told him where, and he picked up the phone and called someone. He spoke to whoever answered the phone, not in the tired, "I hate my life, and I hate this job" manner in which he had spoken to me only moments earlier- but now, like a man fully awake and engaged in the reality of the moment, he spoke distinctly in a lively Arabic dialect that I could not understand to some unknown locutor on the other end of the phone. One thing was certain from this change - whoever he was talking to, was probably signing this man's paycheck. The transformation that came over him was awe inspiring - and for a moment I had some hope.

It is always fun to see a person become themselves for a moment, when you've only known them in the role you found them in. He was bored to tears when I walked up to the till. His movements, his speech, and his entire demeaner exuded utter disinterest - but suddenly, when he is on the phone with what I presume to be his boss - he was suddenly animated, enthusiastically nodding at something, writing things down on some paper, and actually smiling for a moment. I don't know why he smiled, but it really suited him at that moment.

He explained, after the animated call, that the guitar was at another pawn shop owned by the same people. Well, not quite another pawn shop. Rather that it was in a building beside another pawnshop. He pulled out a business card that had the address of the other pawn shop - then tore a scrap of paper from a notepad and drew me a diagram of the building I needed to go to - with instructions to knock on the door of said building, and someone would come and let me in.

At that point I wondered what he was *really* talking about to the guy on the phone... Did I just volunteer to be an unwitting organ donor? It all seemed sketchy as hell with the little hand drawn diagram and arrows pointing to where I must stand and knock..

But I wanted that guitar, and loosing a kidney or two was a calculated risk.

I left the shop and drove across town to the building beside the pawnshop that was circled on the business card. I had to park several blocks away because there were no spots anywhere near the building. The door was frosted glass, with a sign taped to it saying, "knock for entry". So I knocked.

Nothing.

I am a patient fellow, so I waited much longer than most would have (I think highly of myself in my capacity to wait. I am a married man after all). When I felt that I had waited long enough - long enough to begin praising myself for being so patiently polite and selflessly enduring. Wasn't I in a sketchy part of town, knocking on some sketchy side door, waiting for some (probably) sketchy dude to come and open his sketchy, frosted-glass, organ-donor-clinic door to admit me into his sketchy building, while maintaining the perfect illusion of someone who is so calm and settled that one can only conclude that I put myself in such situations all the time.

Yet for all my patience, after a calculated while, I decided to try again, hoping that no one who had seen me knock the first time would notice that I was knocking again. I don't know what childhood trauma is to blame for my concern that someone might see me knocking a second time on the same unopened (did I say, "sketchy") door? But we all have our habits I suppose.

So I knocked again when no one was looking, only this time I knocked out "shave and a haircut" - in case there was a secret knock. That was my go-to, and since it was mine - maybe it was theirs. My gambit however saw no payout. The second knocking spurt, was no more effective than the former.

A few people had passed me by as I was standing there, and because I am Canadian I smiled at them to let them know I wasn't a criminal or trying to case the place. I was just your standard door knocking guy, trying to gain the attention of unknown parties in some sketchy building so that I could buy what was beginning to feel like a "made up" guitar.

At this point, I was ready to just go home, but I determined to try one last flurry of knocks - the kind of knock that says, Hey! I've knocked on this stupid door very politely twice now, and let me tell you, sir, or madam, I am done with it - you best harken to the knocking, or I may have to knock again.

Clearly that did it. I could hear several locks being unlocked one by one. The party unlocking said door, had clearly unlocked this door many, many times, as I could hear the practiced cadence of well trained hands opening what turned out to be six locks in only a few seconds. The fellow who opened the door looked like the nerdiest accountant you'd ever seen, but dressed up in the kind of suit a hit man might wear. I kept my opinions to myself. He spoke almost immediately, "you here for the guitar?"

I said yes, and he looked relieved. Like he was expecting trouble, and didn't find any. He ushered me in and quickly locked all the locks he had just unlocked. The door opened into a stairwell that led up to the second floor. Apart from the hum of an industrial air conditioning unit, the entire place was as quiet as a mausoleum - which momentarily irked me, since I could only conclude that my original knocks should have been heard quite clearly from even the farthest corner of that place.

It turns out the building was owned by the pawnshop company. They actually owned several stores in my city including the one next door. I didn't ask, but it seemed to me that they were using the building as a place to store items they took in pawn that might sell better online than in a local pawn shop. I sleuthed this by reminding myself that I saw this guitar online and it was here and not in an actual pawnshop. Call me Sherlock.

Whatever the case, when I reached the top of the stairs it opened into a fairly nice, carpeted area that would have looked like a modern office if it wasn't jammed full of high end luxury items. There was another person there apart from the gangster-nerd who let me in. A girl working on a computer who said nothing to me while the fellow who let me fetched the guitar from somewhere in the back of this building.

There were a few moments where I stood awkwardly in the presence of the girl who herself was effectively ignoring my presence in her presence. She may have casting a glance at my kidneys and liver, but she certainly wasn't making eye contact. I felt that was likely a defense mechanism. I suspect that It is much harder to harvest organs if you see the "donor" as another human being. Dehumanizing them makes it easier to live with yourself.

After leaving me alone to my constructive thoughts, the first fellow returned with the guitar, and plugged it into a Vox amp, and I played it.

The guitar had been recently cleaned and setup - but it wasn't a great setup. The humbucker was original, but sounded way too muddy. The strings were brand new, but cheap feeling, and I didn't like the amp I was playing through.

One of the tuners had a bit of a hitch, but the neck was true and (as far as I could tell) the electronics seemed good. The hard shell case it came with was an old , thin, tear-shaped case that looked too small for an ASAT to fit - but it fit.

Overall I was a bit disappointed.

I wasn't about to replace a single tuner - I'd have to buy a new set. I wasn't sure if the humbucker was crap or if it was just setup crappy, or if the amp just wasn't playing nicely with the guitar. But the mud was way too thick for me, and it was almost a deal-breaker. But I had the wherewithal to remind myself that a good setup may very well fix that. The pickup height was pretty low, and may have accounted for that. The setup was therefore... slightly shy of "okay". The humbucker was an issue but one that could be likely fixed with a better setup. The strings seemed trashy to me (even though they looked new). They felt mismatched like the G string wasn't very bendy but the B string was slinky as hell. That kind of thing.

If it had been my second or third time buying a guitar, I may have passed on it just because I didn't like the overall feel of the guitar.

Yeah, it looked good, but it felt "meh" and it sounded "meh". But I've learned over the years, that a good setup can fix all that up. So I ignored my gut reaction, and trusted myself to the process.

The seller was looking for $550 USD - which was more than I would have paid for the guitar new in 2010. So I thought that was a bit high. I might think otherwise if it were a US model being sold 15 years later at the originally manufactured sale price, but as great as these Tributes are (and they -are- great) I still feel like the resale value should be diminished to reflect the market. So I wasn't willing to go that high.

I knew I was looking at a new set of tuners for a 2010 Bluesboy Tribute, and that's probably going to run around $125 USD (up here in Canada), so I was looking to push the price down a bit to make the deal.

I made an offer that reflected the mitigating "flaws" I felt influenced my evaluation of the instrument, which was counter-offered. We settled on a price that I felt was higher than it should have been - but that this point, I was willing to pay the difference because I had enough with me to make the deal and still go grab a burger.

I'm waiting on the tuners I bought from Amazon. They should arrive next week. At that time I'll give the guitar a proper setup, take a bunch of pictures and maybe even put a video together to share with anyone interested.

I am still waiting for my Doheny which I ordered in April. Should be here within six weeks.

That's all for now.

[tomanche]

A fine read, Dan. Congrats!
Oh, and congrats on your ASAT find! Looking forward to pictures and the next report.

[DanDoulogos]

Thanks Tom

I am planning on posting pics and a vid when I finish setting it up. Right now I am waiting on the tuners - which should arrive in a week to ten days. Then I can give it a proper setup, and dial everything in the way I like. I like to pull all the components out when I buy a used guitar and clean up all the contacts etc. and make sure everything is soldered in properly. I look forward to making that post.

Who knows? My Doheny should be showing up soon too, so I may get to do another vid for that soon.

[Challenger]

Congrats on the new (to you) G&L. I enjoyed the engaging storyline of how you found it.

[sam]

Quite the fine story teller Dan, I clung to each word awaiting either a mislabeled Intercepter X-body or your demise!

Glad to see you survived the sketchy part of town and came home with a new ASAT that only needs a little attention to reach full potential! Looking forward to pics and progress.

BTW, I can relate to sketchy purchases. Bought a guitar in the parking lot of a very small town gun range/store, which my wife said, “I’m sure you’ll get shot and no one even blink an eye!” I survived and still have the guitar.

[john o]

Hi Dan, great story, glad you survived your trip to the underworld.
Clearly, you can't be left alone, given your compulsions!
I look forward to seeing the outcome of your improvements on the ASAT (and the eventual doheny).

I bought my 1st "vintage" G&L from a young musician who lived in Kensington section of Philadelphia, back in 2016. It was an '83 SC2. I was very excited. Kensington was known as the heroin capital of philly. He invited me to come up at night. I requested a day visit after i looked at the map.
He was a nice guy, single, his efficiency apt had a bed, a dresser and a desk, and a bunch of guitars, parts and amps all over the place. I left my cell phone there and had to go back for it...at night. Survived.

I bought my first telecaster in '75 from a "new" friend that my dad was teaching to fly. He just happened to have access to a number of high quality instruments and amps. I always wondered if it was "hot." Paid him $200 for a '72 mocha Tele Custom. The one that got away...

Congrats on your new acquisition! enjoy making it yours